Not more Widor, I hear you groan. Well, at least it’s not the Organ Symphony
No. 5, with its overplayed Toccata battering your eardrums and
driving out your neighbours. No, this is the second volume in Alba’s Historic
Organs series featuring that fine Finn Jan Lehtola, whose Mendelssohn recital
I welcomed so warmly last year (review)
and whose BIS recording of Aho’s organ works was my Download of the Month
(review).
As if that weren’t enough I have his 4-CD Fuga set of Paavo Heininen’s organ
music awaiting review. Regular readers will know how much I admire Fuga’s
class-leading efforts in the genre, and they will be pleased to hear the
redoubtable Mika Koivusalo is behind these Alba SACDs as well.

Apart from being a splendid example of the marque, the Cavaillé-Coll in
the Church of St François-de-Sales, Lyon – consecrated in 1880 – is remarkable
for the fact that it has remained essentially unchanged since then. Aristide’s
‘symphonic’ instrument is credited with reviving French organ music in the
19th century, and Franck and Widor were quick to exploit its
potential. The latter’s first four Symphonies pour orgue show him
in his formative, exploratory years, while the remaining six reveal his
complete mastery of the form.

The Prélude of No. 3 certainly pushes at the boundaries of what
was possible at the time, with its translucent upper reaches, vast, rolling
tunes and discreet but powerful pedals. As always with Lehtola the music
advances without self-serving intervention or idiosyncrasy, and his judgements
of pace and scale are impeccable. The warm, spacious yet finely detailed
recording is as good as it gets, and the building’s acoustic ‘signature’
is retained without obvious manipulation or extraneous effects. In other
words we hear a natural, well-balanced sound and a perfectly pitched performance.
The turn-on-a-sixpence Minuetto is astonishing – the beast tamed,
as it were – and the instrument’s dark, woody character comes across well
in those light, filigreed tunes.

Even when the beast is unleashed – in the monumental Marcia,
for instance – there’s no sense of overload, musically or technically, and
the telling inner detail of Widor’s score shines through at every turn.
What a fine instrument this is, and how it seems we are there, pinned in
a pew and awed by the panoply of sound. I say awed rather than cowed, the
latter an adjective often appended to run-of-the-mill organ recordings for
all the wrong reasons, most of them to do with excruciating sonics. Lehtola’s
glowing Adagio, as plangently executed as one could wish, is yet
another gem in a beautifully jewelled crown. As for the wont-to-wander Allegro
molto, Lehtola maintains just the right degree of momentum and interest
throughout.

I can’t recall a more persuasive account of No. 3 than this, or a more perfect
marriage of musicianship and recording technology. In the early days of
digital audio critics spoke of a veil being lifted from the music; with
hindsight that seems a little fanciful, but the very best Super Audio recordings
– of which this is one – really do achieve that blissful state. Happily,
the Red Book layer is also excellent; indeed, that suggests as much care
is lavished on the vanilla mix as on the more exotic ones, which isn’t always
the case on other labels.

Back to the music, and to Organ Symphony No. 8; one of the longest – Widor
later removed the Prélude – it’s heard less often than others in
the Op. 42 ‘suite’. Listening to the latter it’s hard to understand why,
for the tireless alchemy that began with the earlier symphonies produces
gold at last. That’s not to suggest that the Op. 13 pieces are leaden –
although they can easily be made to sound that way – but that an assay of
Op. 42 reveals just how far Widor had come in a relatively short space of
time.

The clarity of utterance and enhanced mobility of No. 8 are evident from
the Allegro risoluto. Lehtola articulates this movement superbly,
and I doubt you’ll hear the soft, punctuating bass of the Moderato cantabile
better done. The airy upper registers are just as appealing – Lehtola phrases
with unrivalled sensitivity here – and the range of colours he coaxes from
this instrument is just exquisite. Played like this, without a hint of bombast
or prolixity, the symphony sounds fresh and vital. Even the Allegro
and Variations have renewed energy and bounce.

There’s no sign of the fatigue-inducing ‘wall of sound’ we hear all too
often in lesser organ recordings. In fact all the big moments blossom without
effort or loss of focus. Again it’s the Adagio that’s most captivating.
Refined and reposeful, Lehtola invests this movement with a rare, statuesque
beauty that will take your breath away. As for the sparkling garland of
notes that appears to emanate from the empyrean above, it’s simply magical.
The muscular Finale is taut and purposeful, and Lehtola builds
powerful, resounding climaxes that never seem overwhelming or rhetorical.

I will be interested to hear Joseph Nolan’s take on these two works. He
has yet to record them as part of his cycle for Signum. Dominy Clements
certainly rates him (review).
Then there’s the admirable Hans Fagius on BIS. His recordings of No. 3 and
No. 8 (BIS-CD-471 and 1007 respectively) are played on the Åkerman &
Lund instruments in Katarinakyrkan, Stockholm, and Helsinki’s Kallio Church.
He shapes and scales these works with great skill. The spacious, tactile
recordings are excellent too. However, for uncommon levels of insight and
intuition Lehtola must be the man to beat.

Any caveats? No musical ones, although I do find Alba’s booklets somewhat
drab and uninspiring. That’s a criticism that certainly doesn’t apply to
the superior music-making and front-rank sonics of their SACDs. Then again,
it’s the performances and the recording that really matter, and on that
score this disc is a resounding success.